


as long as you need

by madanach



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, M/M, Masturbation, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Praise, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-06
Updated: 2015-07-06
Packaged: 2018-04-07 23:54:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4282770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madanach/pseuds/madanach
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What the fuck,” he says, more of a gasp than anything else, and Lukas can’t calm his heaving chest quickly enough to answer. Basti runs an unsteady finger up the soft skin lining his thigh and Lukas twitches, then presses the heel of his hand to his mouth and exhales noisily. Basti spreads his fingers flat.</p><p>“What,” Basti says beneath the pulse pounding in his ears. Something’s happening here, but his thoughts are scattered like snow. “Can you,” his voice falters as Lukas opens his eyes, “Tell me what you want.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	as long as you need

**Author's Note:**

> YEAH RUTTING, YEAH ORGASM DENIAL, I'M READY, LET'S GO
> 
> i don't own the boys. i might own the words? lukas, close the page

He make big plans for the night Lukas arrives: dinner and drinks at the best place in town, specially reserved with a private room and a five-star chef and hilariously expensive “pub” food. He feels bad about not being able to get to Cologne for Lukas’ birthday, though hopefully their phone call that night helped to make up for it, and the end-of-season crush for Bayern kept them apart even before that, so it’s been a while since they’ve seen each other outside of Skype calls and shitty selfies. He goes to the airport to pick Lukas up, trivialities of cab fare against Lukas’ extravagant fortune be damned, and the adrenaline of seeing each other keeps their banter light and teasing on the way to Basti’s house. Lukas’ hand only creeps across to touch Basti’s for a moment, and then he’s grinning out the window, all innocence, leaving Basti to look back at the road and futilely try to suppress his own stupid smile.

Maybe it’s because of the car ride, or maybe Lukas was already in a playful mood, but either way, Basti’s dramatic dinner plan reveal meets a slight hiccup when they walk through the door and Lukas’ hands are on his hips in a moment, pushing him until he hits the bannister at the bottom of the staircase, eyes bright.

“I missed you,” Lukas says, hooking his thumbs in Basti’s belt. Basti doesn’t answer, just leans in.

Basti forgets about dinner entirely by the time they get to the landing, his belt skidding and bumping down the stairs as he pushes his hands under Lukas’ shirt, says, “Bedroom?” and then “Fuck, don’t trip,” and then “Turn around, turn around, fuck.” Lukas, laughing at his lack of balance, obediently lets Basti poke him in the direction of the bedroom, stripping off his shirt as he goes. Basti giggles against Lukas’ shoulder and tries his godforsaken best to undo his zip from the back, but eventually Lukas has to take over. He drops onto the bed, legs spread, and looks up at Basti expectantly.

“You’re eager,” Basti says.

“Duh,” Lukas retorts. No time for talk — he’s grinning too big for Basti to take him seriously, anyway. God, he missed him.

“Scoot, then,” Basti says, and Lukas moves backwards enough that Basti can kneel on the bed between his legs, palming him cheekily through his briefs before Lukas snorts and pulls him in. Lukas keeps Basti held tight against him, a welcome measure against his precarious perch on the end of the bed, and Basti kisses him insistently until he opens his mouth, lets Basti in. Lukas at his best is an amazingly eager kisser but he’s slowed down some now, settling into their reunion as his hands wander across Basti’s back. Basti winds his arms as tight as he can around Lukas’ neck.

“Too long,” he mumbles into Lukas’ cheekbone. Lukas’ lips pause where they’re brushing the collar of Basti’s shirt, and then he tilts his chin sideways to speak.

“You didn’t forget that quick,” Lukas says, his smile betraying the sideways nature of the question.

“Alright, dick,” Basti huffs, “Get your pants off.” He kisses him through his laugh, through his temporary amnesia regarding the logics of gravity and his confusion at how boxer briefs work, only pulling reluctantly away when Lukas manages some impressive gymnastics and kicks a leg over Basti’s knee, wriggling out of his underwear.

“You want help?” Basti says, not bothering to hide his grin as Lukas fights with a piece of fabric.

“All good,” Lukas says. He kicks his legs back until they’re bracketing Basti again, then scoots in closer and presses his lips to Basti’s cheek. “Continue.”

“No shame,” Basti mumbles, but he loves it when Lukas is like this, enthusiasm bubbling over until Basti’s just as hyped-up and happy as he. He became familiar with it when Lukas would tug him close after good games, sigh happily and shake his shoulder, but by now he knows sometimes all it takes is a sunny day. It makes his stomach jump to think that Lukas is brimming over like this because of him.

He’s jolted out of his reverie by Lukas moaning.

“Fuck, that’s good,” he says, sighing. “Missed you.”

Basti looks at him amusedly, keeping up the pace. “Did you know I actually made plans tonight? Big reveal and all.”

Lukas’ heel bumps into Basti’s back; he leans back and tilts his hips forward, propping himself up. “Cool,” he says, only a little out of breath. “Big reveal after I come.”

Basti can’t suppress a snort. “Tool,” he says, jerking him quicker.

“Mmhm,” Lukas says, absolutely not listening. He throws his head back, eyes closing, and his mouth drops open as Basti speeds up enough that his wrist starts to ache.

“Close?” Basti asks, and when Lukas nods pulls his hand away entirely.

“Fuck,” Lukas gasps, arching into a hand that isn’t there.

Basti smirks.

“Asshole,” Lukas says hoarsely, eyes shut tight.

“Yeah, what you get for being smart,” Basti says, but moves back anyway, intending to make up for the abrupt disappointment of a delayed orgasm; Lukas rolls his eyes but lets it build up again, tugging at the hem of Basti’s shirt restlessly.

Basti twists his fingers and Lukas thrusts into them obediently, but just when Basti thinks he’s going to come, Lukas’ legs tensing at his side, his hand jumps up and yanks his wrist away. 

Lukas lets out a sound, something harsh and heavy that rolls too long in the back of his throat to be called a moan, and Basti has to pull back to catch his breath.

“What the fuck,” he says, more of a gasp than anything else, and Lukas can’t calm his heaving chest quickly enough to answer. Basti runs an unsteady finger up the soft skin lining his thigh and Lukas twitches, then presses the heel of his hand to his mouth and exhales noisily. Basti spreads his fingers flat.

“What,” Basti says beneath the pulse pounding in his ears. Something’s happening here, but his thoughts are scattered like snow. “Can you,” his voice falters as Lukas opens his eyes, “Tell me what you want.”

Lukas opens his mouth, lets out a hesitant breath, and then closes it again. He reaches for Basti’s wrist and pulls it towards him until Basti’s knuckles bump lightly against the base of Lukas’ dick. Lukas’ grip goes slack.

A moment — Basti trails his finger up the thick vein on the underside until Lukas’ legs tense beneath him — and then Lukas bites his lip and tugs Basti’s hand away.

He doesn’t have words to put to it, yet, but Basti watches a crease knit its way over Lukas’ brow and knows what Lukas wants him to do.

“Alright,” he breathes. The excitement and apprehension bubbling up in his chest is tempered momentarily by Lukas smiling quickly and reaching out, both thumbs on Basti’s cheekbones until he leans in far enough for them to kiss.

Basti knees in further and kisses Lukas until he has to press their temples together to find air, Lukas mouthing messily at the corner of his lips with arms slung tight around his neck. The thin cotton of his T-shirt still separates their skin, and Basti has to fight off the impulse to sit up and pull it off, aching for Lukas’ callused fingers against his back and pushing at the hem of his jeans. Fuck, he’s not gonna last for this.

No. If he does this he’s going to do it right. Basti pushes his knee between Lukas’ leg and presses until Lukas moans softly and rocks up, then slides his hands down Lukas’ shoulders and up to his wrists, determined to distract himself from Lukas’ erection pressing insistently against his thigh every time he moves.

Lukas rolls his shoulders out but he lets Basti link their fingers and push his hands into the headboard when he leans in, spreading Lukas out below him from head to toe. He knows Lukas’ halted thrusts from memory by now but doesn’t remember the last time he encouraged them like this instead of responding eagerly with his hands or mouth. Basti presses their lips together and kisses him into distraction, until Lukas gets too caught up in the friction and heat to remember to censor the jerking movement of his hips, and then —

And then Basti pulls away, yanking out his knee roughly and watching as Lukas, keening, squeezes his eyes shut and tries desperately to stop the way he rocks up into nothing.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. Basti can’t help the hungry way he stares; Lukas’ hands make an aborted movement toward his cock, but he catches himself in the middle and they snap back above his head, pressed into the pillow where Basti left them. There’s a drop of precome beaded at the tip of Lukas’ dick that Basti desperately needs to taste.

“You good?” he asks roughly. Lukas, lips pressed together into a thin white line, takes a moment to nod.

“Good,” Basti says again, “Good,” and then drops forward and presses his forehead to Lukas’ straining chest. It’s a struggle not to go straight for the gold, swallow Lukas down and blow him until he’s cursing and digging his fingernails into the curve of Basti’s neck, but Basti has no illusions about how quickly that would end and the image of Lukas fighting not to come is seared behind his eyelids, both frustrating as hell and the hottest thing he’s seen in ages.

Lukas pushes upward, seeking any kind of touch, but the minute the head of his dick rubs against Basti’s stomach Basti’s hand goes straight to his hip. He tilts his head up to look at the flush creeping slowly and steadily across Lukas’ cheeks.

“Hey,” he says, hoping his voice doesn’t shake. He feels, rather than sees, Lukas will his trembling body into submission and lay back against the mattress, still impossibly tense and straining underneath the skin. 

“Hey,” Lukas says back, rough and cracking away into nothing at the end of the word. Basti doesn’t know how he’s talking at all after that, but his breath is slowly steadying and he manages a half-smirk when Basti catches his eye, a stark contrast to his red neck and white knuckles.

They haven’t done anything like this before. Basti balls the fist that’s still propping him up over Lukas and wonders how his hand isn’t shaking, if Lukas can feel the nerves and excitement flowing out of him at every place their bodies touch. A question’s halfway out of his mouth before he realizes his mistake and swallows it back down, the instinctual desire to ask for directions overwhelmed by every message he’s getting from Lukas’ open body and quiet tongue.

Basti only realizes that he’s gone still when Lukas hums impatiently and kicks his knee into Basti’s thigh, apparently far enough back from the edge to whisper, “You fucker,” hoarse but there. Basti leans forward and lets instinct curl the corner of his mouth into a grin. 

“Yeah, asshole,” he says, close enough that Lukas could kiss him if he had the strength to crane his neck. “Be patient,” he says, and then settles backward onto his knees, hoping to distract himself from his own unsteadiness with the way Lukas groans audibly and fists his fingers in the sheets. He knows Lukas’ body as well as his own after this many years, knows the way it looks under sweaty kits and tangled covers and the hiccuping sheen of a shower or rain, but _fuck_ , he never gets tired of it. 

Basti reaches out and grips the base of Lukas’ dick, not moving his fingers at all, just watches Lukas’ tight exhale and cut-off push upward and ignores the damp discomfort in his pants. There’s a rapidly fading line marking what he’s able to do without losing control, and this is dangerously close even when he’s fully clothed.

Lukas swallows and closes his eyes; Basti strokes upward and catches Lukas’ hip before he can follow.

“God,” Lukas hisses, the rest of his words veering off into indecipherable noises as he twists his neck and digs his nails into his upper thighs. No part of Basti is in reach besides his hands, and Lukas’ fingers flutter, drift quickly up to brush Basti’s wrists before dropping back down and balling into fists. Basti moves his hand again, much slower than the pace he’s now perfected — a bit quicker than what he likes himself and guaranteed to have Lukas losing his train of thought within minutes — and he can see, now, the way Lukas is adapting, knotting his brows and concentrating on his breathing, scratching at the pale skin of his hips instead of following the instinctive muscle movement up.

“Good,” Basti says, wishing he could take back the words the second he hears the roughness of his own throat. Lukas doesn’t seem to notice, but the corner of his mouth does tug upward for a brief moment until Basti presses his thumb to the base of Lukas’ head and drinks in the sound of his moan. Lukas’ hips snap reflexively, then still themselves and settle back down.

His fingers have abandoned his thighs, and the sight of them twisted in the sheets in the corner of his eye sends a desperate, heady shot of uncomfortable warmth between Basti’s legs; he shifts, then, after a quick look at Lukas, frees a hand to unzip his jeans and release some of the pressure.

“You can, ah,” Lukas says, interrupted by a particularly firm stroke by Basti and the ensuing palm splayed flat over his hip.

“What did you say?” Basti says innocently, speeding up — sure enough, Lukas blinks, then shakes his head jerkily, pressing his neck back into the pillow. He’s stopped his roll upwards almost completely, and Basti feels confident enough that he’ll stay still that he moves his hand away from his hip, instead covering Lukas’ fingers where they’re fisted in the sheets. Lukas laughs quickly, pushes his nails into Basti’s palm enough to sting, and groans.

Basti laces their fingers together and yanks Lukas towards him. Lukas sits up halfway, surprised, and it only takes a few seconds before the new angle makes him lean forward and press his forehead into Basti’s shoulder, chest heaving. His breath hitches and he squeezes Basti’s hand tight enough to hurt, then Basti drops his fingers and extricates himself carefully from the warm, sweaty twist of Lukas’ limbs.

With no contact between them, it’s easier to assess the situation: Lukas bent over himself, palms now resting on his knees, visibly shuddering. The harsh red of his erection makes Basti wince in sympathy, but Lukas, after a good twenty seconds of catching his breath, just groans and falls back flat. He doesn’t touch himself.

 _Jesus_ , Basti thinks. He knows less than jack about this kind of play, certain he would have cracked much easier and come much quicker if Lukas had been the one kneeling over him and teasing like this. It’s hard to think with his own arousal becoming increasingly more apparent and dampening the front of his boxers.

Lukas’ breathing is evening out. The part of him that wants nice, easy orgasms for both of them for the rest of their lives is easily stifled by the part that wants to play along, and he reaches over, pushes a hand under Lukas’ back and, with a combination of his remaining strength and pure surprise, flips him over. Lukas makes a startled noise and twists his neck in Basti’s direction. 

Basti kisses what’s exposed of Lukas’ cheek for a brief second, then kicks off his jeans — finally, fuck — and knees between Lukas’ legs, forcing them to spread. He knows from experience the way that position opens you up to the mattress, and he’s expecting the way Lukas’ shoulders stiffen, the way his hips roll once and then, reluctantly, still. 

“You can move,” Basti says. The fact that he never actually told Lukas not to seems to be moot. Lukas makes a noise in the back of his throat but Basti just presses a hand to the small of his back, encouraging him to thrust down. Lukas rolls his hips again and sucks in an audible breath. 

“Good,” Basti says. “I’ll be right back.” 

It’s telling that Lukas doesn’t even protest when Basti slips off the bed, walks almost-steadily to the doorway and crosses the hall to the bathroom. He’s been kicking himself to replace the dry tube in his nightstand for weeks, but he’s silently thanking his errant mind for the distraction and presses a hand to his tented boxers as he walks, urging his body to calm the fuck down until Lukas is taken care of. He doesn’t bother to flip on the light; there’s enough coming from the window and the hallway that he can see the messy inside of his medicine cabinet. For a brief minute he can’t find the bottle — he can’t be out, because he’d die, because Lukas would kill him — and then, with a sigh of relief, sees the flash of white stuck between an unused toothbrush and box of Band-Aids. 

Lube in hand, Basti walks very, very quickly back to his bedroom and stops short.

It’s hard to imagine how sensitive Lukas must be after being brought back from the edge that many times, but it still doesn’t prepare Basti for how eagerly Lukas ruts against the mattress, pillow tugged underneath him and forehead pressed to the bed as his hips jerk. Basti bites his lip to stop himself from saying Lukas’ name.

He pushes his fingers underneath the waistband of his boxers instead, loosely gripping the base of his cock. It looks like Lukas could come from just this — eyes tight shut, muscles straining, not a hand on him as the flush on his neck spreads across his shoulders. Basti could come watching him.

Basti strokes himself languidly and leans against the doorframe until Lukas’ rapid rhythm stutters. Quicker than he can catch himself — quicker than he thought he could even move, considering his uneasy legs — Basti bursts forward and pulls Lukas’ hips away from the bed with both hands. 

Lukas flat-out _whines_.

“Fuck,” Basti hisses, but Lukas is still making that terrible noise across the roof of his mouth and Basti can barely hear himself. Afraid to get too close to a sensitive spot, he leans forward carefully, bracketing Lukas’ back with both hands, and leans his forehead against Lukas’ straining shoulderblades.

Lukas doesn’t make any noise at all. Basti whispers _you’re doing so well_ and lets it get lost in the hush of Lukas trying hard to come back down.

Earlier, it had been easy to tell when Lukas was close. Now Basti almost has to make up a list; he sits back on his heels and notes Lukas’ toes slowly uncurling, his too-stiff legs finding their movement again, the way he tilts his head to the side to breathe and pulls out his elbows at the same time. There are two identical white spots pressed into the small of his back where Basti’s thumbs were.

“You look incredible,” Basti says. He kisses the knob of bone at the base of Lukas’ neck, then moves to each of his shoulderblades, giving him time. By the time he’s followed the crest of his spine downward Lukas finds his voice enough to murmur something completely inaudible, making Basti laugh against the triangle above his ass and then kiss his sweaty skin again. 

For a moment, he considers moving down and making Lukas come with just his tongue, something he’s been eager to achieve; however, considering the circumstances, this may count as rigging the odds. He settles for another little kiss and a teasing pinch, making Lukas roll his shoulders and mumble disconnected noises. 

Basti sits back and digs for the lube, finding it under the sheets by Lukas’ knee. Lukas falls a little in his exhaustion, torso dropping closer and closer to the bed, and Basti has to pull him back up, push his legs in so he can rock back and lean his ass against Basti’s stomach, regaining his strength.

“Almost there, babe,” he says, chest tightening at the show of vulnerability. Lukas drops his head farther, and then, with what seems to be his last show of protest, rocks backward and knocks Basti in the gut.

Basti grins, balance still sound. “Message received.”

Despite his snark, Lukas is still half-limp by the time Basti gets his fingers sufficiently wet, still holding himself up but letting Basti push and pull him easily into position. Basti knocks his knee into Lukas’ to get him to move it out further and sees Lukas’ arms shudder with the effort of staying there. 

No time to lose, then. The idea that Lukas’ unnatural stillness is fully welcome is still a bit shocking, and Basti brushes his clean hand against Lukas’ cheek, waiting until Lukas turns his nose into it to move forward. The first finger slips in without any sign from Lukas but a slight hitch in his breath; the second makes him whine again, pressing his face down and lifting his hips.

“Good,” Basti breathes, “Easy, Luki.” He takes the lack of response as indication to keep going, and sure enough, two steady fingers and a slow pace have Lukas panting in a minute, rocking back and forth against Basti’s hand. 

“Third,” Basti warns, and when he presses it in curls his fingers to match. Lukas’ body stutters, and then Basti hears a muffled groan as he pushes his face into the pillow. 

Christ, okay, that’s good — he brushes upward with his pointer finger and watches in fascination as Lukas’ entire body arches up — but he knows Lukas can’t hold back for long, not when he’s this sensitive. Basti only has to place his palm against Lukas’ shoulder for a second before Lukas rocks backward again, skin mottled with the prints of Basti’s hands and all-too-ready to fuck himself open. 

Basti’s balance slips a moment as he hurries to tug down his boxers with one hand, and as Lukas pushes back to meet him bumps against the now-exposed backboard of his hips, his stomach, his dick.

The touch makes Basti suck in a startled breath, starved for contact in his own way, but it’s nothing compared to how Lukas cries out and pushes back against him again at a pace bordering on panic, so ready that Basti has to pull his fingers out all at once to make sure he doesn’t come early. The noise Lukas makes when Basti’s hand leaves him is the most obscene thing Basti’s heard in his _life_.

“Holy shit,” Basti says, blindly scrambling for more lube. He’s never seen Lukas like this. He’s never seen _anyone_ like this, and he needs to come, quickly, before his brain explodes and he dies and leaves Lukas sad and alone and orgasm-less, because that is what is going to happen if he doesn’t touch Lukas right now, right now, right _now_. 

He’s generous with the lube, partly because he wants this to be as pleasant as possible on Lukas’ over-sensitive skin and partly because he knows he won’t be able to go slow once they’re touching. He doesn’t bother with the condoms; he hasn’t touched anyone but Lukas since the first time they fucked and Lukas is clean as can be. A few strokes to spread the lube down his neglected cock and then he can finally push up against Lukas, arms bracketing his hips, and say, “Hey, I’m here, I’m here.” 

Basti stills Lukas’ rocking with both hands, and, with one slow movement, pushes in. Lukas lets out a long, low noise that sounds like Basti’s name.

“Jesus,” Basti breathes, and Lukas twists his neck, says “Basti, _Basti_.”

The sensation is overwhelming. He’s fucked Lukas before, plenty of times, but there’s something heady and incredible about the pure heat of it; Lukas’ skin burns like a furnace and even the coolness of the lube is quickly warming, caught between their bodies as Basti’s arm winds under Lukas to pull them together.

And then there’s the other warmth, when Lukas pushes his elbow backwards and Basti catches his hand, a move that he knows he taught him, to link their fingers together and hold him steady. He presses a kiss to Lukas’ back and can’t think straight enough to be sure but hopes it’s the side with his heart.

“You ready?” Basti asks. Lukas doesn’t need to answer.

It takes four thrusts before Lukas is chanting Basti’s name like a prayer, nine before the prayer verges into frantic pleading. Basti doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to hear Lukas say his name again without getting hard, without thinking of Lukas open and vulnerable beneath him and curling so willingly against his body. _Basti, Basti, Basti_ , and Basti presses the side of his mouth to Lukas’ neck as his own breath gets shorter, says _just come, baby, just come_.

Lukas shivers into Basti’s chest, arches against him, and doesn’t make a sound as his limbs go loose and he crumples. 

“Lukas,” Basti says, reverent, following him down. Lukas’ muscles clenching around his aching dick are almost secondary; he wants to kiss every inch of Lukas’ skin, rub his own handprints off of his shoulders and hips, wait until Lukas’ eyes blink open and then kiss him again. Lukas just squeezes his hand, the only sign of response from his otherwise-still body, and breathes out.

He’s fucked-out and open from coming so Basti slows down as much as he can, keeping the rhythm steady, trying not to overwhelm him, and feels the familiar curl low in his gut. By the time Lukas starts to mumble out of discomfort — too raw, too exposed, too soon — Basti’s on the edge himself, and comes as he pulls out, a hand on the base of his dick, splattering white against the red skin of Lukas’ ass.

Lukas makes a noise into his now-damp pillow, Basti collapses on top of him, and they lie there for a long moment, disbelieving.

After he’s caught his breath and tested his limbs, Basti sits up carefully and stares at Lukas’ immobile back, fierce red and sweaty and moving just barely with his lungs. It’s hard to believe that Lukas is that way because of him. It’s hard to believe that he asked for it, gladly. He spreads his fingers across Lukas’ back; the separation of their bodies has never seemed more apparent.

“Hey,” he says quietly. “Can I clean you up?” His come is dripping onto the back of Lukas’ leg, to the sheet underneath. Lukas’ hand twitches.

Basti smiles slightly. Lukas flexes his fingers, then, face still pressed in the pillow, gives Basti an exhausted thumbs-up.

“That’s my boy,” Basti says, and smiles wider. Lukas can’t see him, so he rubs his back for a second before waddling back to the backroom, mindful of his own tense legs and aching knee. It takes a moment of fiddling with the faucets to get the water a comfortable temperature, and he splashes his own face before wetting the washcloth. He scowls at his pink face in the mirror for good measure.

Lukas hasn’t moved by the time he comes back, and he’s just as red and worn as before. Basti knees onto the bed next to him and passes the washcloth over his shoulders before wiping off the come, trying not to be too clinical or linger too long. Lukas likes to be taken care of — Basti knows this well, even though it’s not something he’s said — but there’s a difference between taking care of him as a friend or lover and being so gentle that it’s insulting. Basti knows how to tell them apart by now, but he always still feels like he’s learning.

He pushes softly at Lukas’ side. “I’m gonna turn you over and get your chest, okay?” Lukas mumbles agreement and Basti flips him, slower than before, helped by Lukas’ easy looseness and reluctant pull away from the pillow. The washcloth folded, he gets the smear on Lukas’ stomach and dabs at the wet spot in the sheet, then brushes his hand across Lukas’ hip and looks up. 

Lukas’ eyes blink open, looking like he’s just woken up, and Basti sucks in a breath. He looks — shattered, Basti thinks, eyes unfocused, pupils down to pinpricks, and the harsh marks across his cheeks and forehead don’t do much to reassure him.

“Did I hurt you?” Basti says, heart sinking.

Lukas searches his face, reaches out to fist his hand in the shirt Basti’d forgot he kept on, and then smiles, slow and brilliant like the sun.

Five years — ten years — later and Basti still gets goosebumps when Lukas looks at him like that.

“C’mere,” Lukas whispers roughly, and Basti can still think enough through his haze of endorphins, afterglow and stupid warm-chested love to throw the washcloth on the nightstand before laying down and opening his arms and legs to Lukas, letting him fit inside just as well as he always has. Lukas burrows in closer, Basti holds him tighter, and when Lukas tilts his chin up, kisses him too. 

The light taste of rust on his tongue is enough for him to pull marginally away, press his nose to Lukas’ cheek and whisper, “Did you bite your tongue?” 

Lukas chuckles, kisses Basti again, and presses his warm lips to Basti’s cooling neck.

“I’m sorry,” Basti says, quiet.

“Don’t be,” Lukas answers. Basti can’t see the smile that blossoms against his shoulder, but he knows it’s there.

 

He reschedules the dinner. It’s worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> this has been sitting in my brain since february and i finally managed to write it down! bringing bottom!lukas to the good people of america and everywhere since 19**
> 
> [tumblr](http://madanach.tumblr.com) / [twitter](https://twitter.com/anahaedra)
> 
> [title](http://36.media.tumblr.com/40720f75513e2cf4d9fecc191f5428d0/tumblr_nr2jayfkEt1rpxwe4o1_1280.png) is from [@avxlanche](https://twitter.com/avxlanche) on twitter


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